From Parker to Pointless?

Trust, scores, and the fading age of the super critic.

In the glass, the wine radiates a brooding garnet core that promises both mystery and revelation. The nose unfurls dramatically with layers of ripe blackberry, stewed cherry, and blackcurrant jam, underscored by evocative hits of cigar box, freshly sharpened pencil and the faint memory of walking through a damp forest after rain. With a subtle hint of spice, the ghost of a Tuscan sunrise lingers in the background.

On the palate, it is nothing short of a journey: rich yet ethereal, bold yet restrained. Flavours of dark chocolate, espresso and black plum cascade across the tongue, supported by tannins that are somehow both chewy and silky at once. The oak influence is perfectly harmonious, imparting subtle notes of vanilla, toast and the reassuring embrace of a well worn leather armchair. The finish is monumental, seemingly endless, recalling river stones warmed by the sun, a fleeting hint of graphite, infused with a hint of nostalgia for a long lost past.

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It is a triumph. Both hedonistic and contemplative, this wine transcends the glass and ventures into the realm of the spiritual. It is not just something to drink, it is something to feel. Best enjoyed with roast lamb, philosophical conversation, or in complete silence while gazing wistfully into the middle distance.

95 Points.

Intrigued? Salivating? Bored senseless? This entirely fictional, and somewhat over the top, review is an example of the sort of generic nonsense that can vaguely apply to any number of wines. In so many words, it says practically nothing of value, at best conveying a sense of enthusiasm on behalf of the critic, and I'm sure you've seen something of the sort either online, in newspapers or one of the glossy wine magazines out there. These adjective laden passages ostensibly serve the purpose of informing the reader, the curious consumer and wine professional alike, about the qualities of the wine, when it should be drunk and with what food, presumably with the aim of reducing the inherent gamble associated with a wine purchase. It is a relationship, through screen or paper, that relies on the consumers trust in the critics palate and their professional expertise in wine.

On the face of it, relying on professionals for advice on a complicated subject matter outside your own area of expertise is sound practice. You hire lawyers and accountants to help you navigate complicated bureaucracy, consult mechanics and other trades people for their professional opinion when something needs repairing, so why not make use of the experiences of someone who's business it is to taste, think and opine their way through the perplexing landscape of viticultural appellations, with their funny labels in foreign languages. After all, it is a very human tendency to trust what you might consider an informed opinion, particularly when it comes from someone you have built a certain level of trust with, even if this trust is one sided and superficial. It is the backbone on which modern influencer marketing is built, and it is highly effective.

One of the earliest reviews on record, and one of my favourites, is the remark by Samuel Pepys in his 1663 diary entry where he describes a sort of French wine called Ho Bryan, which had "a good and most particular taste". While wine would become an increasingly fashionable thing to write about in the centuries to follow, as both wine quality and bottling technology advanced to a point where wine could be stored and distributed in what we may call a modern way, it wasn’t until the early 20th century that the practice of assigning scores or quality scales to wine was attempted in earnest, with a range of authors giving points to specific variables like aroma and colour. None of these early attempts really caught the public imagination. It wasn't until 1978, when the enterprising law student Robert Parker released his first edition of the Baltimore-Washington Wine Advocate newsletter, complete with the now well known 100 point scoring system, that modern wine criticism and the scoring of wine became mainstream. Parker's subsequent assertion in 1984 that the 1982 Bordeaux vintage was superb, a statement that went somewhat against the grain at the time, cemented his reputation, as indeed it proved to be a magnificent year. The influence this one critic would come to have on the world of wine is hard to understate, and it is his efforts that made wine scores such an influential factor in the buying and selling of wine. Merchants, sommeliers and retailers were quick to adopt his methodologies, pushing wines which had received high scores from the right critic at a significant premium. Parker himself of course remained one of the most influential critics from his start in 1978 to his retirement 40 years later, to the point where complaints of the so called "Parkerisation" of wine is still heard today. In the pursuit of a favourable review from the right person (namely Parker), aspirational wine makers would adjust the profile of their wines to match Parkers penchant for big, powerful ripe wine with significant extraction and liberal use of oak, leading to a homogenisation of style. Few winemakers will perhaps admit this, but there is no doubt that there was a stylistic shift occurring in the market as a result of these reviews. At his peak, to say that a great review (or poor) review from Parker could make or break your winery would be an understatement, with recommended wines rapidly evaporating from the shelves. With such power, there is perhaps little wonder that speculations of the objectivity of his, and other critic's reviews are raised.

Bob

Yet while Parker set the stage, the world today is not dominated by any one critic to nearly the same extent. We live at a time where nearly everyone who wants can express their opinion on the quality of a wine, either on social media or on one of the many wine apps that offer a review function (Vivino, cellar tracker etc). There are also a tremendous number of professional critics out there, and while many remain quite influential, no one critic today holds anywhere near the marketing power that Parker did at his peak.

It would appear that the age of the super critic is a thing of the past, and it begs the question of whether the critic really holds any true relevance in today’s market?

Do People Still Care About Reviews?

From a personal perspective, I rarely seek out any review, nor do I put a tremendous amount of stock in them when I do read them. Yet I will not pretend that on seeing a particularly negative review, perhaps when checking the price of a wine on Wine-Searcher, my interest in the wine is not dampened. If nothing else, it makes you question what is wrong with the wine to make this highly trained individual, sometimes even an MW, suggest that the wine is sub-par.

The same works in the opposite direction as well. If Jancis Robinson MW or Tim Atkin MW or one of the many other MW critics out there recommends a wine, I trust that if nothing else, they will have tried enough wines over the course of their career to have a good idea of where this wine ranks in comparison. Assuming we trust the integrity of the reviewer, it serves as a sanity check, making the professional / critic aggregate score you can find on Wine-Searcher and other platforms genuinely helpful.

Though not under the delusion that my views are not entirely average, I wanted to see what other people’s attitudes to reviews and critic scores might be. Turning to Reddit, I ran a three day poll on r/Wine, a subreddit filled with anything from yellowtail quaffing individuals wondering if funny looking crystals at the bottom of a wine renders the wine unsafe to drink, to seasoned collectors showing off with their classified growths. The results from the 56 people that responded to the poll are as follows:

In hindsight, some of these questions could have been formulated better, yet it does suggest that while not everyone puts much stock in what wine critics say, critics still play a significant role in wine sales. Not a groundbreaking study by any means, but would appear to align with the thoughts I outlined above on how I perceive critics.

It also suggests that while wine critics may remain relevant as a group, no individual critic holds a market shifting influence anymore. Yet while any one critic may not be trusted enough by a majority, the comments received on the Reddit-poll I posted suggests that for some consumers there are critics that hold an outsized influence, based on a perceived alignment of palate and preferences. It’s not a dynamic I had given any consideration, but makes perfect sense in the context of trust discussed above.

For the these individuals, it is clear that genuine value is derived from the input of specific critics.

Do Points Matter?

Now, the question of points is a contentious one. While some may trust a critic to opine in broader terms on the quality of a wine, there is no doubt that reducing a wine’s complexity, character, and context to a single number risks at best oversimplification and at worst encourages homogeneity in style. A high score may indicate technical excellence, but it cannot account for individual preference, occasion, or the subtleties that make wine culturally and personally meaningful. Moreover, reliance on scores can erode the value of personal discovery, discouraging drinkers from trusting their own palates. With the rise of independent blogs, social media communities, and greater access to producers’ own stories, consumers today arguably have less need to lean on critics than in decades past. In Britain and many European countries, where wine-buying often occurs in supermarkets or local shops rather than through specialist importers, personal recommendation and price promotions may matter more than a lofty number in an international journal. There is little doubt in my mind that scores matter insofar as they continue to shape perception and market dynamics, but their relevance to the actual experience of wine drinking is, I think, increasingly open to question.

When was the last time you sat down at a wine bar or restaurant and enquired about how many points a certain wine has received? I have certainly never done that, and if asked the same when serving someone a glass of wine I might politely answer, then deflect the conversation onto whatever might make the wine in question interesting.

Yet we can’t escape the fact that this shorthand for quality sells wine. At a supermarket aisle, where competition is fierce, seeing a high score on a label or shelf talker may be enough to tip the balance in favour of a particular wine. In practice however, very few wines of commercial relevance are ever awarded less than 80 points, despite the theoretical 100-point system offering a wide spectrum of possibilities. This compression of scores into a narrow band between roughly 85 and 95 creates a situation in which a single point can dramatically influence perception and pricing, even though the difference between, say, 89 and 90 is often imperceptible in the glass. Add to that the inevitable disparity between different critics and you’re left with quite a paradox. While the 100-point framework suggests precision, its application in the market has produced a clustering effect that diminishes differentiation.

This inflationary drift in ratings creates both problems and opportunities for the trade. On the one hand, it dilutes the meaning of the numbers, undermining consumer confidence and leading seasoned buyers to dismiss scores as marketing shorthand rather than genuine indicators of quality. On the other hand, it provides a consistent promotional tool. After all, few customers are alarmed by wines labelled “90+ points” because so many now fall within that bracket, creating a reassuring if somewhat empty baseline of quality.

Rating inflation of this sort also risks undermining historical ratings. A 95-point wine today is not necessarily the equivalent of a Parker 95 from the 1980s or 1990s, which once denoted exceptional and rare distinction. It frankly begs the question of whether a metric that has been stretched to the point of near-universality can still function as a meaningful tool for differentiation in an increasingly fragmented and pluralistic wine world.

Lastly there’s also the rather thorny question of what makes a perfect wine. There are certainly enough wines out there that have achieved this rarified status, with jamessuckling.com awarding 52 different wines 100 point scores in 2020 alone. While the argument that these represent a tiny drop of rarified juice in a vast ocean of wine is a sound one, it fails to adequately define perfection. I have a hard time with coming to terms with the idea of 100 point wines. Surely, past a certain level of technical soundness, the quality of a wine will invariably be subject to personal preference. This is perhaps where the one must abandon all objectivity and side with the critic that appears to have preferences most closely aligned with yours.

Are Scores Bought?

Again, a highly contentious question. The best argument I have heard in defence of the impartiality of modern wine scores is the fact that the influence of individual critics is sufficiently diluted to not warrant any significant bribe to be made to any one individual. Yet there is no doubt that enough ad money will get you a nice fluff piece in one of the prestigious publications covering the world of fine wine. I’ll refrain from naming anyone in particular here, but you needn’t spend long on the internet to find examples of this sort of article. This applies particularly to the world of fine wine, which is often aimed at buyers who see wine as an investment vehicle. I would not be surprised in the slightest should there be reports of less than squeaky clean dealings to ensure a certain minimum score is achieved. The money involved at this level is after all quite substantial.

Chateau Lynch Bages. One of many examples of the fancy architecture on display in Bordeaux. They also make some wonderful wine, don’t you know.

Final Thoughts

I think David Mastro Scheidt put it wonderfully in his recent article called “Can a Zinfandel from Lodi and Russian River both receive 95 points?” where he pointed out that wine criticism in many ways has devolved into lifestyle marketing. Reading the majority of modern wine media, fluff pieces included, it is hard to escape this notion. Though trite, relentlessly dull descriptions such as the one I started this article off with still exist, but I suspect that at this stage their actual contents, provided it’s all positive, is secondary to imagery of rolling hills and avant garde architecture that the estate in question wants their wines to be associated with. As David says, “We’re talking about consumer identity products”. He couldn’t be more right.

So what then can we conclude about modern wine criticism? As discussed above, they do clearly have their place, but possibly more for the trade than for anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I would be absolutely chuffed if a high powered critic gave my wine 95 points. After all, it translates into something incredibly marketable, and for people in the trade who might know the merits of the critic, it will likely carry even more weight. Yet as a consumer, who may not be intimately familiar with the critic in question, it is devilishly hard to get any real value out of the wine blurbs and scores doled out to near every wine out there. Oh that Aldi wine has 89 points? What exactly does that mean? Quite frankly I have no idea, and that my friends, is the problem.

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